


Orange Colored Sky

by fleurofthecourt



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Domestic, Fluff, Grad Student Castiel, M/M, Teacher Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-25
Updated: 2014-05-25
Packaged: 2018-01-26 10:59:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1685858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fleurofthecourt/pseuds/fleurofthecourt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Somehow Cas defending his graduate thesis leads him and Dean to confronting an issue they've both been skirting around.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Orange Colored Sky

Cas drained the last dregs of lukewarm earl grey as he stared bleary eyed at his laptop. He kept telling himself he needed to double check one more thing, remember one more detail, maybe reread an entire section. 

What he really needed to do, however, was sleep. 

He recognized that, distantly. 

Yet, too much of his professional career hinged on his successful presentation of the one hundred some pages that lay before him. Nearly two years of analyzing Revelation and it all came down to an hour long critique. 

Really, the process was much more involved than that, but Cas had written the last fifteen pages over the course of the last week and developed what was likely an unfounded fear that he’d completely misinterpreted one of his main secondary sources. 

It was an uphill battle for his nerves from there. 

However, with his energy drained from both teaching two sections of Introduction to Christianity and the culmination of a few weeks worth of stress, Cas found himself nodding off over the keyboard, the laptop’s trackpad warm against his cheek. 

His last coherent thought before slipping out of consciousness was that he didn’t actually remember making tea or even having left his room since he’d hastily grabbed one of the pre-made sandwiches out of the refrigerator on his way in.

He wondered distantly if Dean had made it; he’d certainly made the sandwich. Cas would almost have felt guilty about eating it if he wasn’t seventy percent sure Dean had made it for him in the first place, considering he regularly told Cas he would die of starvation if he lived alone. Cas refused to concede the point because he _had_ lived alone for two years before Dean’s brother had insisted that the two of them needed the company of another human being before they both became too awkward to function -- Sam’s words, not his or Dean’s. So Sam’s thirst for them to have companionship rather than his own inability to make something more complicated than slightly burnt grilled cheese was why he lived with Dean. 

Well, it had also been a little about him being two months of forgetting -- not lacking the funds, _forgetting_ \-- to pay his rent away from living in his car and Dean rolling his eyes and pulling him into his apartment by the collar of his dress-shirt over it, but why split hairs? 

Shortly after slumping over his desk, he was woken up by Dean swiveling his desk chair around and pushing it towards his bed. “Last I checked, Jobs didn’t make those things to be pillows. You sleep in bed, Cas.” 

Dean tipped Cas, who was still, unfairly, half-conscious, against his mattress. 

“Dean, if I want to pursue a doctorate, I have to get my masters,” Cas said. “That involves my successful thesis defense.” 

“Yeah, well, you staying up all night is only going to make you crazy,” Dean said. “So you’re getting some actual sleep. Tuck you in myself if I have to.” 

Cas set his mouth in a narrow line as he pulled himself up. He knew Dean was right, but he still wanted to keep looking over his notes. He decided he would do so again as soon as Dean left. “Fine. I will put on my pajamas and go to bed. Goodnight, Dean.” 

“Nope. Don’t trust you. I’m staying right here until I see you under the covers,” Dean said, plopping himself into Cas’ now abandoned desk chair. 

Annoyed that Dean had seen right through his plan, Cas huffily dug through his dresser for a t-shirt before stripping to his boxers. 

Dean, for reasons Cas was in no mood for analyzing, watched. 

“You should wear your boxers inside out or something,” Dean said, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck. He looked like he wasn’t sure if he should regret saying that or not. 

Cas had no idea why he did say it. “Why?” 

“The kids always do it when they want a snow day,” Dean said. “It’s like a good luck charm or something.” 

“My thesis is not a snow day, Dean,” Cas said. 

“Still couldn’t hurt,” Dean said. 

“Are you sure you don’t simply wish to see what’s beneath my boxers?” Cas asked, his voice slightly muffled by the anthropology club t-shirt he had just pulled over his head. 

“Uh...” Dean stammered, going completely red in the face. As Cas looked back up, he turned to face the nightstand. “I’m not looking. I’m really, really not looking.” 

Cas sighed. This was really not the time for Dean to do this. 

Nevertheless, because he took Dean’s advice, no matter how strange it was, to heart, he flipped his boxers over. 

“I will let you know how well the superstition of third grader’s fares against the judgment of three women with doctorates,” Cas said. 

“You, uh, you won’t have to,” Dean said, continuing to focus his attention solely on the leaf pattern on Cas’ lampshamp. “I’m coming.” 

“Dean, you have no interest in the subject matter, and you have to teach,” Cas said. 

“Okay, so maybe I don’t exactly have a hard on for apocalypse case studies like you do, but I’m not not interested, and I, well, uh, I got a sub,” Dean said, looking down at his hands. “Thought maybe you could use the, uh, moral support or somethin’. I mean, not that you need it. Pretty sure you could spew this nonsense in your sleep...” 

Dean trailed off, continuing to look at his lap rather than back at Cas. 

“Your presence may temper my fear of Dr. Naomi,” Cas admitted. “I wish she were not going to be there, but she is the department chair.” 

“Yeah, sounds like she’ll pull something straight out of left field on you,” Dean said. “But, hey, Anna’s got a stake in this herself since she’s your advisor, right? So she can’t be that tough on you. And Tessa doesn’t sound so bad.” 

“I do expect Anna and Dr. Grimm to be fair in their judgment,” Cas conceded. 

“Then you’ve got this in the bag,” Dean said, clapping his hand over his shoulder before quickly withdrawing it. “Now you gonna go to bed or do I need to pull out the big guns?” 

“Big guns?” Cas asked, tilting his head slightly as he pulled his comforter back and slid under it. 

“Plan A: I hide your laptop and your notes. Plan B: I drug your tea,” Dean said. 

“Or you could leave my room so that your presence stops preventing me from doing what you want me to do,” Cas said half into his pillow. 

“Yeah, okay,” Dean said. “Fair enough. ‘Night, Cas.” 

“Goodnight, Dean,” Cas said.


End file.
